


shadows are falling and i'm running out of breath

by xylodemon



Series: deancas codas: season fourteen [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: "Billions of souls are at stake," Dumah says, narrowing her eyes. "Billions. If Heaven's integrity fails, we–""Lemme tell you something, sister." Dean's heart is beating in his throat. "I don't give a rat's ass about Heaven. I never have. You guys have been a pain in my ass for ten fucking years."





	shadows are falling and i'm running out of breath

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-coda for 14x18. Promo spoilers ahoy. Unbeta'd like an unbeta'd thing.
> 
> Rebloggable at [Tumblr](http://xylodemon.tumblr.com/post/184117662699/deancas-fic-shadows-are-falling-and-im-running).

Wind batters at the window, shaking the dusty curtains. Cas asks, "How bad are things in Heaven?" in a quiet, tired voice.

"Heaven is dire," Dumah says. Her hands flex at her sides. "There are just six of us now. Naomi only opened the gate so I could find you."

Cas pauses before saying, "I failed you. When Naomi asked me to find Gabriel and convince him to return, I—"

"That wasn't your fault," Dean insists. He cuts a look at Dumah; his hair's been standing on end since she showed up. "Michael shanked him before you really had a chance."

Another pause; the window behind Cas rattles again. He starts, "And Jack—"

Dumah holds up a hand. "Where is the nephilim? With his power, we could—"

"We, uh—we don't know," Sam admits. "He took off, after that thing with Nick. I thought Mom was with him, but she isn't answering her phone."

Dumah frowns. "Nick?" 

"Lucifer's meatsuit," Dean says, only sparing her half a glance. He asks Cas, "So, what now?"

The cabin creaks and sighs with a gust of wind, and Cas and Dumah exchange a long, silent look. Cas' mouth is tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. A bad feeling slithers up Dean's spine.

Finally, Cas says, "I'm returning to Heaven."

Dean stares. He— _fuck_. "What? You—"

"Dean—"

"No," Dean snarls. _Cas. Heaven._ He can't—he can't fucking breathe. "No way. You can't—you—we—"

Sam grabs his arm. "Dean—"

"No, Sam. He—"

"Billions of souls are at stake," Dumah says, narrowing her eyes. "Billions. If Heaven's integrity fails, we—"

"Lemme tell you something, sister." Dean's heart is beating in his throat. "I don't give a rat's ass about Heaven. I never have. You guys have been a pain in my ass for ten fucking years."

"Maybe if you had done your duty—"

"My duty?" Dean barks. His hand inches toward his jacket, the angel blade in his pocket. "My duty? You—"

Dumah's eyes flash, but Cas quickly steps between them. He says, "Dean—"

"No." Dean can't look at him. If he looks, he's going to fucking puke. "No. If you're really thinking about going back upstairs, then I—you're dead to me."

"Dean," Sam snaps. His voice ricochets around the cabin like a gunshot. "You don't mean that." When Dean doesn't say anything—can't say anything, can't say anything—Sam looks at Cas. "He doesn't mean that."

"Dean," Cas says quietly, but Dean still doesn't look. He can't.

The wind picks up, battering a tree branch against the side of the cabin. Dumah says, "Castiel is an angel. He belongs with his brethren."

Dean mumbles, "Yeah," around the lump burning in his throat. His fists are clenched so tightly his fingernails are digging into his palms. "Yeah, I guess he does."

Sam huffs out a noise, but Dean just waves him off. He–fuck. _Fuck_. He takes a breath and makes himself look.

Cas is standing by the window, his head turned to the side. Dean thinks about kissing his jaw, touching the hair curling behind his ears. He thinks about not being able to do that anymore.

"So, that's it?" Dean says, rough. "You're just gonna go? Head back upstairs like none of this matters. Like we never–like you–"

"Dean," Cas says. "You think I don't—" he cuts off and glances at Dumah, at Sam.

After a short, tight silence, Sam tells Dumah," C'mon. Let's give them a minute."

Dumah hesitates for a second. She shoots Dean a look that's sharper than a knife, then lets Sam herd her outside.

As soon as they're gone, Cas says, "I love you."

They've never really talked about it, even after all these years. Hearing it now feels like a punch to the gut.

"Yeah? 'Cuz you got a funny way of showing it."

"Heaven—"

"Aint your fucking problem."

"It's my home, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean's gut lurches; he bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't puke on his boots. "I thought this was your home. _Us._ Me, and Sam, and Jack. I thought—"

"It is. But Heaven—Heaven is—" Cas signs and looks out the window again. "Billions of souls, Dean. Billions."

"Yeah, I got that part." Dean paces in a tight circle, gritting his teeth when he hip-checks the couch. "What I don't get is why it's gotta be you. Why you gotta flap up there are wipe their asses one more time. It ain't—it ain't—"

"What—? Fair?" Cas scoffs under his breath. "It _isn't_ fair. But that doesn't change anything." He touches Dean's shoulder, skims his fingertips down Dean's arm. "You—of all people—should understand that. You understand what it means to sacrifice."

"I do," Dean admits, because he does. He really fucking does. "I just—I don't understand why it's always gotta be us. Why it's gotta be my family, my friends. My—" Dean chokes out a noise and looks away.

A shadow slouches past the window—Sam, maybe. Sighing, Cas touches Dean's arm again. He leans in and kisses Dean's jaw, the corner of his mouth.

Dean mumbles, "Fuck," and fists his hand in Cas' coat. He tucks his face into Cas' neck and breathes Cas in.

(A green and yellow motel in Rexford. Holy fire throwing shadows on the wall. A stretch of highway between Des Moines and Mason City: summer heat and road dust and Cas' hand on Dean's thigh. Purgatory. Ham sandwiches in a cabin. Cheeseburgers at a diner with blue and white tablecloths. A rainstorm, and the curve of Cas' jaw in the orange-red flare of a vacancy sign. Cas' palm opening as Dean hands him a tape of Led Zeppelin songs. Sparks falling in an abandoned barn)

"If you go, you ain't coming back," Dean says, his lips moving against Cas' skin. "Naomi ain't gonna let you waltz away from her again."

"No, probably not."

Dean says, "Fuck," and closes his eyes. "Fuck. I'm never gonna see you again."

Slowly, Cas brushes his fingers through Dean's hair. He says, "If it's any consolation, I'll be without you far longer than you'll be without me."

And that—fuck. Dean's crying. He's crying, and he doesn't give a shit. He says, "Don't," and twists his hand in Cas' collar. "Stay. Stay here, and—"

"Dean, I can't."

"Please." Dean kisses him, lets his teeth catch against his lower lip. "Stay here, and we'll—"

"And we'll what? Let Heaven collapse?"

Dean shakes his head. "No. We—we'll fix it."

"How?"

"Somehow. I dunno." Dean kisses him again. "We'll track down God if we have to." 

The door bangs open before Cas can answer. Dean thinks it's the wind again, but then Dumah strides in, backlit by the waning moon. 

She asks, "Castiel?"

"No," Cas says, squeezing Dean's hand. "I'm staying here."


End file.
